Never Knew What We Had In Store
by JannP
Summary: What kind of a guy does he become: the one who chases the train and then stands there or the one who took off and ran away? The answer could change their lives forever. Finchel from 3X22. Inspired by the movie 'Sliding Doors.'
1. I Have to Start This Over

**A/N: **This is a little tricky to explain. Seriously, the best explanation is that my mind is a black hole. If you've seen the movie **Sliding Doors_,_** that will help. If you haven't... just know I'm very particular about tense and the switches are there for a reason. This is like half written so I hope to have it finished posting shortly. The parts are a little shorter than normal and really, this story is very, very different for me so please let me know if you like what I'm doing. Additional inspiration, plus all titles, are taken from the song **Something More** by **Secondhand Serenade**. Thanks to **Jen **for the beta and encouragement. Thanks to **Wendi** for only laughing a little as we did parallel research.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of this stuff. Or much of anything, really.

* * *

**Part One: I Have to Start This Over**

The minute she's gone on the train, it's like he switches over to pause. He _wants _to move, but he can't. He's just sort of standing there, even though he knows someone is gonna come over and probably somehow bust his balls for chasing the train. And yeah, he knows it's stupid and cliché and one of those totally lame things but they don't get it and they never will because they don't _know._ He doesn't really know either. Sure, he had a plan; he had to practice out what he was going to say like a hundred times because he was pretty sure it would take at least that many before he could get the words out without throwing up. And that would _not_ be a good note to end on.

Instead, he got it out without crying, without choking up, and even if he didn't say all the words he can't remember how it felt or what he said. Or where he is. Or why he's here. Or what the hell he thinks he's doing. All he knows is they had a plan. He had a plan. There was a plan and now it's gone because she's gone and he's still standing here like an idiot. He's pretty sure it'll take him days to move. And even if it feels like days, it's probably only minutes because no one says a word to him. Or maybe they don't say a word to him because he's _that_ guy. The one who chases the train and then stands there. Except he didn't stand there, he took off. He ran.

* * *

He stands there until eventually, there's feeling in his legs again. The only real feeling is actually some kind of pulsing, pounding, like when you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Except his is through his whole body and really, it's kind of freaking him out. Did the last five minutes happen? Maybe it was five, maybe it was ten. He doesn't know. He isn't sure. The only thing he's sure of is that at some point, the 'don't know' is gonna stop working, stop making him numb, and the last ten minutes or so of his life are gonna really fucking hurt.

The second thing he feels is a hand on his shoulder. He kind of looks over at it without moving his head and wonders if it's attached to a person or where exactly it might've come from. And he's sure it looks weird when his eyes move and the rest of him doesn't because he's still sort of holding his breath. But his eyes recognize that hand, and honestly his shoulder kind of recognizes it too and before he can catch up to what he's doing, he's looking over at Mr. Schuester. He can _see_ the worry, can see the words forming, but he can't feel it and he can't hear it. He just sort of assumes what comes out of his teacher/mentor/friend's mouth is "Are you okay?"

The numb sort of wears off and the feeling clawing through his chest is most definitely not okay. He's pretty sure his throat is still numb, or at least not working right, and so all he can really do is shake his head.

"She'll be back in a few days, Finn." He hears the words, and they're a little loud. It's like stepping out in to the bright sun after you've been in a dark closet or something, only y'know… with sound.

He still can't really do anything but shake his head.

Apparently Mr. Schue can't do anything but look at him and squeeze his shoulder.

And then, kind of like the clawing feeling, the words sort of come tumbling out of him and he forgets he's supposed to pay a little more attention to the shit he says in public.

"I broke up with her in the car because she wanted to defer and she _has_ to go to New York. I…there's…I can't. There's nothing there for me right now and I can't just go 'cause she's… like, my _wife_ and even if there's nothing better for me than this and here and her, I can't do that to her. I can't. I _won't_. I think… maybe there's something about all the stuff with my dad or maybe…maybe I wasn't ever supposed to leave and not getting accepted to Pace was like the universe's way of smacking me back down or something and I…"

Schue is in front of him with his hands on each shoulder and he's breathing hard and Schue takes advantage of the fact that he's, y'know, probably gonna pass out or die or something if he doesn't stop talking.

"This is… crazy," Schue finally says.

Emphasis on the crazy and yeah, like he knows. He gets it. He paced it out. He tried to think of anything else to do and this was the only thing that even…he just gets how extreme this probably seems, and he _really_ understood it as Rachel begged him for a minute to catch up because he's the fucking jerk that let her think they were going to get married; he wants to marry her, it's just… he just can't. Anyway, Schue's talking.

"Finn, you've said for months she's the _only_ thing worth having in your life and even if we thought that was a little maybe melodramatic or something… it's clear you've done a lot to deserve this love in your life. You _need_ it to keep moving forward. Why are you throwing that away because some school _passed_? You were going to get her there even if she didn't get accepted. Why aren't you willing to fight on your own behalf the same way? You're worth the fight; your future is worth it." Schue's voice drops down. "More than anything, maybe _she's_ worth it because the two of you are something greater when you're together than when you're apart."

He stares. Schue says all this stuff and he stares and then he tries to remember to breathe.

"I…I don't…." For some reason, as he hesitates and tries to find his words, he looks over his shoulder and he sees everyone standing there, still on the stairs or ramp or whatever where they hugged her. They're just sort of watching but trying not to be obvious about it and they're too far away to help him out 'cause he doesn't totally understand what it is that his (former) teacher wants him to do now.

Schue hasn't really been _this_ pushy before. He's literally grabbing onto Finn's suitjacket, hand still on shoulder, and he turns them both before he starts walking and pushing, pushing and walking. "You have _got_ to stop this. Break this stupid cycle where you build yourself up then let yourself get knocked down again. Yes, not getting in Pace is a huge hit. Yes, the Army denying your petition is a huge hit. Do not let them stop you entirely. You have to-"

The answer is basically automatic and overlaps Schue's last few words. "—complete the motion if you stumble." They might be Red Hot Chili Peppers' lyrics and totally random, but who cares?

"Do you have enough on you for a train ticket?"

He looks over, wanting to be all shocked and like _of course not are you kidding _about it but… actually he does have enough because they were gonna get married and then take off for a couple days so she'd tucked some cash into the console of his car and even if this is Cow Town, Ohio, he was _not_ leaving it there long enough to come into the train station.

"Actually… yeah."

"Then let's go start this over, Finn. "

"It's not… it's not that simple."

Schue pats his shoulder as they reach the ticket window. "Sure it is. You put her on a train to do her a favor. Now I'm going to put you on one for the same reason. You'll thank me later."

* * *

The next few hours after Rachel left went something like this: he ran away from the train, ran away from the confused glances of their friends who were probably waiting to do some sort of "last time" dinner. Rachel was the first to leave, but she definitely wasn't the last, and Mercedes was scheduled to be the next one out in just two days on a flight from Columbus. For his part, Finn didn't run to Columbus or hop on a plane, but…

Speaking of Columbus, he ended up there about three hours after her train sped off in the almost-opposite direction.

See, he'd spent a bunch of time figuring out the words he would say but truthfully? He'd spent just as much time on this part, the part he felt like he _should_ do even if it wasn't the part he _wanted_ to do. He didn't want things for himself so much, he just wanted them for other people.

The first step in that direction was New York for her, but Columbus for him. Gahanna to be exact. The Military Entrance Processing Station to be even more specific. It wasn't quite as intimidating as it sounded and really, he stood in front of it for a long time that night thinking about what was going to happen and how things could go and… he eventually had to leave because a security guard asked him what he was doing and the best answer he could come up with was "staring."

Staring was impressive after the day he'd had, but the security guard didn't know that and (nicely) asked him to turn staring into moving. Eventually it was just staring at the ceiling in a small hotel room. Double beds had never really been big enough, but he felt so small that it didn't really matter.

* * *

He steps out onto the street from Grand Central and realizes he has no idea where to go. He's never even been inside this train station and he just _sent_ her here? Can he call her dads and go back on what he'd told them—that this was for her own good and of course he's thought it through and no he isn't breaking her heart without good reason to do so? They were thrilled their daughter wouldn't necessarily be a bride before she can legally vote, but that doesn't mean they went easy on him as the arrangements were made. He's pretty sure they—nor Rachel—will go easy on him _now_.

He comes into New York City with $75 in his pocket, GPS that won't pull up on the right map on his phone, and about a thousand doubts all rolled into one nervous package and he's only sure of one thing: he needs this mulligan worse than anything he's needed before. He just wishes a little that he thought he deserved it.


	2. Do We Know What We're Fighting For?

**A/N: **Thank you for the kind feedback, the likes, the reblogs, etc. Thank you for reading. Please keep it coming because I'm (not quite) almost finished writing this one and I could use the momentum since I'm still not 100% sure the format is a good idea. Ha. Let me know what you think as always, though. Thanks **Jen **for the beta, and to the handful of others who have given me various pieces of input.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Don't care. Still don't sue.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Do We Know What We're Fighting For?**

It seemed really stupid to him that he was nervous to go pee in a cup. Well, that wasn't the only thing he'd be doing, but he'd done enough of this process already that he should've probably been used to it by then; the recruiter he'd met with more than one time probably had no idea what his middle name was. He _definitely_ had no idea why Finn was there in the first place or what he was going through in the slightest. As long as it didn't raise a red flag on the security pre-screen, Finn didn't think the guy even cared. It was actually sort of awesome and let him not think _too_ much on what had happened so he could just look forward a little. As long as the future was mapped out and he signed on the line at the bottom of the page, it was way more manageable and less scary.

It was just this stupid thing where he didn't want to be a mechanic for his whole life and suddenly that was becoming a possibility. It was one of the job interests he'd listed for the recruiter, but it wasn't the job he actually wanted. He wondered if there was a way to cross that off the list of possibilities now. He wondered if he'd ever be able to make a decision he didn't second-guess, too, so he kept his mouth shut as they placed him in the Civil Affairs specialty even though he was reasonably certain his dad had done something along those lines and he'd gone insane—or died of an overdose or whatever with the details.

He didn't sleep much the night before, and was actually up about 20 minutes ahead of the wake-up call they'd set up; when the call sounded, he was messing with his phone and ignoring the texts that ranged from _you can't be serious about this_ from Kurt to the _please reconsider_ from his mom to _I miss you already, so much. Please be home when I get back_ from Rachel. He sighed when he saw hers especially, the sadness palpable in even just her text messages. There were three total and he deleted every single one.

He was so sad it hurt but he had to keep calm, carry on because this was what he needed to do. He didn't just want it; and he knew the truth that he didn't only _want_ her either, but there was really only one way he felt like he could prove himself and it wasn't by loving someone and holding her back at the same time.

They called his name first, citing a 'first in, first out' rule, and he was done with the entire first day of the process a full hour before anyone else because all of his paperwork was in order and his testing had been done beforehand.

He was really glad the recruiter who'd gotten him set up had told him to follow the bus from the hotel in his own car so he could leave when he was finished.

* * *

He sits outside the hotel room, on the floor, for two hours before the doorknob clicks and Leroy Berry comes out and here's the thing; he likes her dads and he thinks they like him, overall, but that they're scared because he and Rachel have been playing with fire for a long time and making plans for a future that no one thinks they have any business planning for yet. He kind of hates that word—_yet_. Three letters and it's the bane of his existence and maybe he's been, like, hanging around with Rachel too long or something 'cause really all _yet_ means is he will have to wait and he's usually decent enough at being patient. Well, on the whole. And maybe not as much with big and important things.

So yeah, anyway, Leroy finally comes out and that's fine because Leroy is all about dirty looks and stuff, and he can definitely make you feel like you're about three inches high with the right one, but Hiram usually doesn't stop talking and he runs you over with his words 'til you're flat. He'd rather get into a staring contest than a word contest any day of the week.

He hears the door click and stands up so he's at full-height by the time he sees the guy and it just works. He doesn't feel like he's scrambling as much as he has for a couple days. It's kind of nice to do the right thing at the right time for once and he's just not gonna think about it too much until Leroy raises his eyes brows impatiently as if he's trying to ask what the hell is going on which is probably _exactly _ what he's thinking.

"Hello, Finn."

So much for the standing and not nervous. Finn sighs and blows out a breath. "Hello, Mr. Berry. Thank you for…just… can I please see Rachel? Please?"

"Why?"

He's _never_ been asked that question by one of her dads before and he literally has no idea what to say. Leroy doesn't say anything else either, but the look on his face still says plenty even if most of it is 'no.'

He licks his lips and looks at the door. He knows she's in there and he misses the time before he pushed her behind that door and he could see her without the whole face-questioning.

"Look, Mr. Berry, I know how this must look and how you definitely think I have no business marrying your daughter or even being here really 'cause I kind of signed the rights away but I _love _her. I'm not trying to hurt her. I'm trying to…"

"Finn, it's time to grow up and stop this. We have an extraordinarily close relationship with our daughter, and so a unique insight into her and your relationship with her. You have this problem with accepting responsibility." He opens his mouth to protest, but Mr. Berry holds up and a hand and that's sort of that. "So accept responsibility. Rachel has a purpose here, one that's greater than _you_, which you have acknowledged. So find yourself a purpose and _then _look her up. Do I make myself clear?"

And he did, which is how within a couple days, Finn ends up with three jobs (two crappy ones as a filing clerk or something 'cause he wasn't drunk for the interview and he could prove he knows the alphabet…like… the _alphabet_, and then the other as a bartender 'cause you can do that at eighteen in New York and it works out with the one good job; he gets something as an auto mechanic in Jersey City when Burt promises to send a recommendation that talks about the kinds of stuff he's worked on), crammed into an apartment with six guys—one of them is another mechanic—staring at a phone and wondering if working himself to death is the purpose or…or really if her dad is wrong and _she_ is his purpose. It isn't the first time he thinks that, and it probably won't be the last. It's also not the first or last time he realizes _she _might be his purpose, but he definitely isn't hers. She has more.

She deserves something more.

* * *

The last part of his day was actually the next morning; they'd had so many people to get through specifically the medical testing that they did the final oath, signing, etcetera – all the following day. He sat calmly as they discussed what job he would be doing (the one in Civil Affairs), enlistment bonuses and options, and when he might be assigned to report for basic at Fort Benning. They outlined that he would have ten weeks there, a small break, and then report to Fort Bragg in North Carolina for the rest of his training. He heard what they were saying, but truthfully, he was really glad they'd written it down too because he was sure he wouldn't remember.

They needed Civil Affairs Specialists in areas where the military presence was winding down; he was leaving for basic in about three weeks and would have two more weeks in between. It was laid out on a calendar in his hand, in his lap sitting in the driveway, and then spread out on the kitchen table as he explained it to his mom while she had tears in her eyes the entire time and didn't say much about it. It was the next seven months of his life spelled out in day-by-day detail and he was a little relieved by that. At least he was leaving Lima. He left for basic two days before Rachel and her fathers returned and he never really knew if that was on purpose or not; he had a feeling his mom had discussed it with them because, even as he thought about it, he had no idea why they would stay in New York for a month. He also knew he had no right to ask, so he kept his mouth shut.

In fact, he didn't say a word about her to anyone for the entire three weeks before, just quietly went about the (insane amounts of) preparations he had to make before he left, and the process of burying whatever he felt about her and what he'd done so deeply it wouldn't resurface for the eight years he had just signed over to the Army.


	3. The Storm is Rolling In

**A/N: ** Thanks for reading and more, thank you for replying. I'm still really uncertain about this story because it's so many things I don't usually do, so please continue to let me know what you like and what you don't like. Thank you **Jen **for the beta.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of this stuff. Titles of the story and chapters from **Something More **by **Secondhand Serenade **

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Storm Is Rolling In**

He starts really, really slowly. Her dads get her all set up and leave; she's got a summer workshop of some sort so she moves to New York just after he does. He isn't sure if she knows he's there or not. The one time he tries to call her after the thing at the hotel, her other dad answers and _does_ run over him with words—words about how Rachel is doing better those days and he can't just drop back in until he _knows_ he won't bail on her again. It doesn't matter if they understand his reasons, it doesn't matter if they think he's noble and self-sacrificing and they actually have a higher opinion of him now. It matters to him that they say Rachel does, and in some sick and twisted way they acknowledge how hard he screwed her over because although she's doing the performing thing, she isn't making any sort of social connections. He knows it gets better for her when Kurt lands a fashion internship thing over the summer—at least watching Bravo got him _something_ because it was some kind of a Project Runway-based contest—and moves to the city.

He still doesn't really talk to either of them because he's got three jobs and no time and all these bills and he's still trying to find some way to just make himself… stable. Really, whatever he has isn't much and he could be gone tomorrow and Leroy Berry was right about that one thing. He needs some kind of roots, some kind of motivation that isn't tied to her, and he's still looking. At least now he believes he might eventually find it, which is a hell of a lot better than he thought when he left Lima on the train three hours after hers.

It's only been a few months, it's just before Christmas/Hanukkah, when Kurt tells him in no uncertain terms to pull his head out of his ass; she has a winter concert and he goes and they go out for the most awkward dessert ever afterward so he can explain what he's doing. He gets her New York phone number and gives her a kiss on the cheek and a wish for a good holiday but that's about it.

Then his life falls apart because he comes home and his roommate (one of them) is all but dead. So of course he has to deal with _that_ situation. He missed it. He's been getting to know Adam for months now and… and Adam was an addict the whole time and of course it's easy to look back and see signs.

He's actually high when Kurt calls him a few days later because he's dropped off the grid; it's like he had to see what the appeal was, what his dad and Adam were so happy to maybe die for. It makes a backwards sort of sense and he _hates_ the look on Rachel's face and the tears in her eyes when the two of them drag him back to Kurt's apartment and refuse to let him leave even when the world's worst headache kicks in and in the crash he sleeps for like two days then promises he's never touching that stuff again.

"I've never been so disappointed in you before," Rachel whispers before she kisses his forehead and leaves. He's half-in, half-out and not entirely sure it actually happened, but he feels like it did. And he doesn't like the way it feels because disappointing her was, like the opposite of his goal.

* * *

There was this thing called a runner's high that he never really knew about until he finished basic. During the time in between the two training camps, he found there were some habits he couldn't really break. He started off every morning really early, which sucked because it was like November in Lima, running in that slow shuffle that he knew looked completely stupid since there wasn't a box of guys around him singing out monotone songs and calling out times and distances and whatever else. He didn't call that kind of stuff out, and his mp3 had way better music, but he still found himself shuffling through the run to the steady beat of the stupid crap that kept them all going in basic, all in the name of hitting that runner's high again. Well partly that and partly it was one of those habits he picked up as he went along. Those habits became more obvious than ever when he was home.

He only ate with one hand, his right hand attached to his right leg from the moment he sat down. And he ate _fast_. He never took seconds and he always cleared every plate from the table as he stood. And those were just a couple of the changes. Never mind the physical changes. He had a hard time keeping his weight down because, sure, he thinned out in some ways but not all of them. Not that he was fat to begin with, but running in a climate like Georgia's still trimmed him down. The trouble was, with the pushups and chin ups and just the physicality of all of it, he gained muscle. And since muscle is heavier, it made it harder for him to make weight. He got used to running to balance out the other stuff, often doing two-a-days and running around the base after dinner in his spare time before lights out. So he ran a lot over the time before he got home and ignored his mom's statements that he was too hard, too thin, and didn't really seem like her son anymore. Well it was part ignoring and part because she wasn't speaking to him when he said it and he basically only spoke when spoken to. Kurt was amused to come home from his internship, during their overlap time at home that was only a few days, and note that Finn actually had a gentle, barely-there Southern accent buried somewhere in all the habits and muscle and runner's high.

Finn didn't realize it until he was on the bus from Columbus to Fort Bragg, but Kurt never even mentioned Rachel. Finn didn't bring her up because it's part of the not speaking unless he's spoken to, and they haven't talked to each other at all in six months. He wasn't convinced any single realization of his life had ever been so disappointing.

* * *

It's probably dumb but he spends, like, a ton of time with the drug counselor the hospital assigns to Adam. Her name is Emily and she's really, really nice—she's also really helpful and he likes talking to her. She has this way of explaining what's going on with Adam and how he can help his friend. She also gives him this _look_ when he tells her about how he was stupid and tried some stuff—he can't help it, okay?—that makes him spill basically his entire family history under his breath over coffee one afternoon.

There's like three or four more months of talking and watching Adam get better instead of struggling before she tells him that he's, like, actually really good at being supportive and helping people with this stuff. She asks him if he's ever thought about doing it and he hasn't. So in turn for all his talking, she tells him about where she went to school and why she does her job and how it felt hopeless to her because her mother actually _died_ of this stuff when she was in college and she… Emily is incredible and strong and beautiful and she kisses him on a rainy Saturday in the summertime when the air is all steamy because it's hot and raining at the same time and he's seriously _not_ made to live in New York City but he's actually starting to think it'll be okay. Maybe he'll find something yet that he can do and be happy.

But it's not _with_ her, at least not like that. "I… Emily, I can't. There's someone else," he tells her and he means it. And even though all he and Rachel really have between them is disappointment, heartbreak, loneliness—he means it. There's someone else for him, someone who isn't Emily and who _is_ Rachel. (Plus, they also have coffee dates once a week now where they never talk about any sort of issue deeper than how Natalie Caldwell fucking sucks and stole her role in the joint project thing with the juniors at NYADA and the first year grad students from Tisch. He wouldn't trade those coffee dates or those moments with her for anything.)

And he thinks, now that he's helping Adam and taking Emily's advice and looking into school options, maybe things are working out and maybe things are lining up and maybe now's the time. He kisses Rachel at coffee and she's not disappointed, but she _does_ ask if he's sure this time.

"There's no one else," he tells her. "Seriously only you, like always. And now… well, now there's me too. For real. I'm not going anywhere."

She seems to like that answer and she kisses him again.

* * *

He really, really liked the job the Army had assigned him to; he didn't sit still on base, he was always out and about and talking to people. Really, getting deployed didn't seem like it would be so bad if he was out _talking_ to people. And even more strangely, for a kid who didn't really like studying English that much, and really was a major fail at Spanish, he was aces at Korean. He should've known he'd do better in a language that was symbols and stuff. Plus, like reading up and down instead of side to side and… he just was way better at that kind of thing. (Eventually, when things started going to shit in Iran again, he also learned Farsi so he could go there and he _hated_ Iran but...yeah.)

Except…he saw stuff. And basically, CA was supposed to be like the military darlings, but sometimes when there was someone blaming Americans for shit, his team of four had to go in and negotiate like… to make sure they didn't end up in jail in Singapore or something maybe worse. And he was supposed to have this 1-to-1 deployment ratio, basically, which meant he'd be home for a month every time he was deployed for a month. Fort Bragg wasn't that bad of a home or anything, and he got time off in between each of his training classes but… it took him kind of a long time to get to New York. He was visiting Kurt, staying with his brother and Blaine in their _tiny_ apartment on their sucky Ikea couch (but it was his brother, y'know? It was _fine_) and his phone rang at the same time the doorbell rang. He laughed but that was annoying; there had been kind of no shortage of old McKinley alums coming into town to see him since his stop matched up nicely and a little on purpose to a huge off-Broadway debut for Rachel. He'd gotten up the guts to write her a couple of short emails, half in other languages because he was being a little bit of a smug asshole, and he'd already seen her show and they'd had one super awkward dinner as a foursome.

Still, he didn't even think about it being her at the door, and there was something really wrong with looking up and seeing her walk in and start shrugging out of her coat at the same time his C.O. was in his ear telling him he needed to cut his visit short.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" She asked, looking around. Kurt and Blaine looked at Finn at the same time, expecting and sort of like the old married couple they basically were; it would've been funny if he hadn't been hanging up just in time to say:

"Actually… I have to go. I'm leaving. I have to go back to Iran."

Yeah, she didn't actually like that answer. It sort of ruined their night; he had kind of a way of doing that and he was pretty sure it had started to become an actual problem.


	4. It's Gonna Rain for Years and Years

**A/N: **Just about done here; there will be one more chapter after this. As this continues to be outside my writing comfort zone, I really appreciate your reviews and comments that let me know what I can do better or that I'm doing okay as is. Please keep them coming. Props to **Britt **(the Santana to my Finn as a brotp, if we're being honest) for reading through the military half of this one especially and **Wendi** (holygoof101) for her medical input & review to help make it as factual as possible because that's the way I roll.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own any of it. I'm just playing with it. I'll put it back when I'm done.

* * *

**Chapter Four: It's Gonna Rain for Years and Years **

It wasn't an uncommon thing; because of the crazy deployment schedule, there were a lot of guys who opted out instead of taking a bonus to stay active. They went to a different job class or into IRR but there was a huge percentage of guys who didn't do another rotation in 38B active duty and, after it'd been really hard to pry himself away from Rachel and Kurt and New York… he just wasn't sure he had it in him. He had loved what he'd been doing for the last few years, but he was ready to move on. He was ready to go back. He was just… holy shit. He was _ready_. He was ready to be in New York.

He actually stopped walking when he realized and DeKorver, who was behind him, walked right into him.

"Jesus, Hudson. The step up giving you some trouble?"

"Psh, no," he said, shooting a dirty look over his shoulder as they stepped into the hospital. They had _just_ rebuilt this place and honestly, it was a lot better off than the last time he'd been here. He looked around, breathing deep and appreciating that there was no smell of _dust_. He hated the smell of the dirt here.

Their whole thing today was visiting with a few of the patients, specifically people who had been injured by insurgent groups who were threatening a comeback in the zone, and admin to make sure they had all the military support they needed to keep the place running. He really loved that he felt like their team of four was helping here. He remembered the charge nurse from his last go-round and she honestly looked a lot happier now than she had then. Amazing the difference a couple years and a few hundred thousand dollars could make.

They finished their visit and he didn't really see the strike coming, but it hit just as they got back to the Jeep all the same. In fact, he didn't see much as smoke obliterated his line of sight and the whine of missiles from somewhere in the same packed-dirt parking lot took out his hearing and all he could remember was someone telling him to get down, yelling it as he frantically grabbed for Adam DeKorver, pulling himself and his partner out of the Jeep and down to the ground with a hard tug to take cover.

* * *

He's way into this thing by now, working toward his master's degree in Social Work and working on all kinds of certifications and stuff so he can basically do the same job Emily Steadman does. It's been a long time since he saw Emily, really, just because he knows it makes her uncomfortable, one—but it also makes Rachel uncomfortable. And since he's been angling to get the ring back on her finger for the last six months or, he's all about keeping her happy and not stepping on toes that way. He'll probably send her the fancy graduation announcement when he's all done with school (Rachel has already said she's making him 'walk' which…lame.)

But anyway, even if he hasn't seen Emily, he's still headed toward the same basic job as her and he's ass-deep in clinical hours and practicums and whatever else that sounds really boring but basically means he's functioning with patients. That's the part he's really good at and it's the part that's making him finish school even though this last part really kind of sucks. He's hanging in there, though.

Like day-to-day, though, it isn't so bad. He's hands-on or whatever and it's really just so much better that way. He goes down to the admissions desk with a cup of coffee in his hand that isn't for him, but is for Sarah, the cute little clerk that kind of reminds him of Rachel, who is currently deep in the heart of admitting like four people, with like six more getting in her face about being too slow and God, don't they realize if they just sat down and let her _do_ her job, it would go so much faster? Well yeah, so he's going to bring her coffee and fingers crossed she'll get through just fine.

Except there's this guy leaning over the desk and getting in her face. And he _knows_ she's not actually Rachel, but there's like a switch in his mind that says he needs to do something because Sarah is _someone's_ Rachel. He knows the guy she's dating and Jacob would want him to do something. Plus, Sarah is his friend. _He_ wants to do something.

So he does.

Only… there was some information missing. Sarah was sitting back in her desk and frantically pushing the hidden security button because she could see something Finn couldn't, and he only gets like "Hey, dude, c'mon… let's just sit down and—" out before he sees the knife the guy is holding, and he doesn't get a chance to really even step back before the guy makes physical contact.

* * *

All he knew was the world around him was chaos; he could maybe open his eyes long enough to see something but the smoke made them burn and close and the sounds were all deep and hollow and far away and he just… he finally stopped even trying to open his eyes because it wasn't really doing him any good.

* * *

He feels too hot, like way, way too hot and he can't really bother dragging his eyes open but he can hear that there's all hell breaking loose around him. It's all shouts and people, like, _on_ him and doing something that sort of tugs but it's just warm. It's too warm. He kind of feels like he's on fire and he definitely doesn't like that feeling and it's really all he can do to keep his eyes closed and his mouth shut until it's not so warm and he can relax a little bit, and as soon as he does the sounds and the tugging and everything fade away.

* * *

He didn't really know where he was when he woke up, just that it took a lot of work to actually get his eyes open. A lot of work, a lot of effort… just a lot. The hand on his arm as he stirred was enough to make him turn him his head and finish opening his eyes.

It almost hurt as he tried to piece together the last thing he could remember. He didn't know where he was or… or… it really hurt to turn his head so he let his half-open eyes slant to the side and realized it was his mother's hand on his arm. His eyes widened when he realized she was talking and he couldn't hear her.

It took almost two hours for them to have the doctor come in and to figure out a way to explain. Even then, the words that echoed through his head in made-up voices because he couldn't hear theirs were saying words he didn't understand… coma, fracture… air strike…only survivor…Maryland.

It was a couple of days before the headache started to fade and the low tones of conversation started to settle in and he could relax a little bit. There would be all kinds of medical stuff, all kinds of details that he'd probably never remember actually going through, that'd come to him in time. They told him he'd been at a hospital on a contact, he and the other three guys. The hospital had gotten hit; his C.O. was still inside, just coming out and had been lost immediately. The other guy had been walking between the Jeep and the hospital and had died 'in-transit.' Finn and his partner had been in the Jeep already, and though Finn had pulled Adam down to a safer place, they had been too close, too peppered with debris. Finn and Adam both smacked their heads and were unconscious, but Adam's body had protected Finn from further damage. Both had been bleeding profusely and unconscious when they were pulled of the zone and the medics had immediately sedated them and made arrangements to get them to the States for tests.

They watched and hoped it wasn't anything serious and in the end, it was something that would heal with time. In the course of all their tests, they discovered and immediately started treating 'acoustic trauma.' They were _pretty sure_ there was no brain damage. And they _thought_ he'd get at least most of his hearing back once the swelling from the ear surgery went down. Adam, on the other hand… well, he had protected Finn and Finn had saved his life because their Jeep was taken out along with the hospital.

He was _pretty sure_ he'd rather be dead than unable to hear. It didn't stop him from wishing it all away, wanting it to be the beginning again so he could start over and do everything differently. At least, that was until Rachel was there, taking his hand and, even if he couldn't _hear_ her voice, he could hear it in his head and it was telling him everything would be okay. He lay awake all night that night with her pressed against him, wishing he could go back. Wishing things were different. Wishing he even knew when it had all changed. Wishing he could just start it all over.


	5. Now What Will I Become

**A/N: **Here's the end. Sorry for the unintentional few days' delay. Real life just sort of ran me over and this still needed some finishing touches. Thanks for the kind words and replies. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to **Jen (wants2beawriter) **for the beta.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee, Sliding Doors, or Something More by Secondhand Serenade.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Now What Will I Become**

Rachel bounced into their apartment. That was really the only way to describe it. She generally 'walked with purpose' (even his head put air quotes around it and he smiled a little because she was so…ridiculously Rachel) but this was something else entirely. He looked up from his textbook and squinted a little bit, trying to hone in on her words. Generally he did fine, but there was, like, a certain pitch her voice would hit and he couldn't do it. Not anymore.

She could tell by the look on his face and she lowered her voice and just, y'know, volume, to normal as he sat back. She settled into his lap.

"… and I'm guessing it's finally here."

He grinned and gave her a small kiss because he had an order he liked to do things in and that was first. "You think?"

"Yes, I think." She slipped her hand back over his shoulder and produced the laminated envelope.

"Is it stupid to be excited since I already know what it says?" He asked, still looking up at her and pulling the envelope out of her hand.

She shook her head. "No. None of this is stupid," she said. She brushed her fingertips over his ear, smiling. "I may think it's ridiculous you had to request a correction to your _own_ military documents because they confused your name and your _father's_ name, but I don't think it's stupid for you to be excited. I _never_ think you're stupid."

He snorted at her. "Except when, y'know, I put you on a train so you could come to school and I could join the Army without you telling me I was insane?"

She looked at him with a barely-hidden grin. "Which I did anyway, thank you very much. And I never said that was stupid; it was… Just… open your good news."

And there it was, his DD-214 form. Only this time, it was _right_. It looked similar to his Dad's. Well, except for one thing. He covered his first name with his thumb as he looked it over. He let his eyes scan the page, his head almost reflexively changing the dates he saw, setting them back a couple decades give or take. One thing didn't change, though; the little row of two thin, wide boxes on the bottom. "23. Type of Separation: RELEASE FROM ACTIVE DUTY 24. Character of Service (include upgrades): HONORABLE." He scanned down to the box under the word he'd agonized so much over, where the code had been wrong the first time and had labeled his discharge the same as his Dad's – a general court martial.

This time it was fixed, though. And even though the '271' was a different three-digit code than his dad would've ever had…well. The name matched and everything was right. He breathed out a huge breath before she was grabbing his hand and pulling the paper away.

"Stop that," she said, her voice low and gentle. "I know what started this but…that's _your_ accomplishment. You shouldn't give it away—even to your father."

"But it's better," he said. "It's…" He swallowed hard. "That's his name, too."

"Yeah," she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, enjoying the feel of her warm hands on his stubbled cheeks as she worked her mouth expertly over his.

"All right, all right—break it up you two," Adam said as he made his way down the short hallway into the dining room of the apartment the two couples shared (because a guy in grad school for social work, a guy in pharmacy school, and their still-starting-out girls in New York City really couldn't afford a two-bedroom any other way, even if two of them were retired military with old-man things like _pensions_.) "Emily's already texted me _twice_ to see if you're done with that reading yet, Hudson. I had _way_ better things to be texting her about than how you've got your wife in your lap instead of some recipe for how to cook meth."

Rachel pulled her mouth off his so he could answer, but redirected her lips to his neck while his thumbs stroked her back through the gauzy material of her shirt. She only took a long enough break to protest "I'm not his wife _yet_," before going back to what she was doing.

He ignored his (their) roommate for a minute longer to tip his head and give her easier access. Adam still walked with really just deliberate steps (and had joked that "next time I get bottom" on more than one occasion following their injuries in Iran) and Finn could see him moving out of the corner of his eye. "Y'know…we can change that whenever you want," he said to Rachel, the words coming out more like a sigh. "I _have_ been asking you again for like six months."

"Yes, and I believe my exact answer was that we've already been engaged and I have no interest in doing it again," she said, playing with the collar of his t-shirt and smiling as she leaned into kiss him. She wasn't trying to cause a fight and he knew it.

"So walk down to City Hall," Emily said as she came through the door. She set the six-pack on the table, the bottles clanging together. "It's a million degrees out there, give or take, and raining but… walk to City Hall."

"This city is worse than a sauna, Blaine," they heard from the doorway and yes, it was true they already had plans for six for the evening. "Just between here and there, your hair is starting to curl and we're not even going to get into what my skin is doin-wow. You two should definitely get a room." Kurt slammed to a stop in the doorway. "Do we need to come back later?"

There was so much noise as Emily and Adam said their hellos to Kurt and Blaine that his ears couldn't really keep up; it was really only, like, "crowd" noises or if the pitch was just off, but… well he actually was used to it and even if it meant he couldn't hear her singing voice quite right, he actually sort of liked it. It made it easier to focus on her answer, still sitting on her spot in his lap, when he said "City Hall." Not that he needed to _hear_ to understand her slow and super sexy smile, and yes, he wished they were alone.

* * *

He laid in their bed with her three nights later, tangling and untangling their fingers slowly. Neither of them was asleep; they quite likely wouldn't be anytime soon. It wasn't quite so rainy, but they were both all sticky for other reasons and laying on top of the blankets with a really cold bottle of water making its rounds between them and earning the occasional gasp with a cold drip landed on their overheated, bare skin.

"Are you happy?" He asked, his voice a low hum that sliced through the quiet room. He rolled his head toward her, even though he could barely make out the familiar shape of her in the dim light.

"I think…" she finally said slowly, letting out a long breath. "The more important question is if _you're_ happy, Finn. None of this was really about my happiness, was it? I've known since I was sixteen years old what made me happy."

He was probably quiet longer than he should've been. "Yeah," he breathed out. "I sort of take the long way around, huh? I guess now it's _our_ happiness though, isn't it?"

"It always has been, Finn."

He nodded and didn't take his hand away from hers this time the way he had been doing. "Yeah…I…I dunno. I don't think it could've really gone another way, though. I mean, I don't think it would've worked out the same. Do you?"

"The only way to know would be to start over," she said. "I'm not willing to do that. Not when we're both finally here… like _this_."

"Well…" he said, rolling himself carefully on top of her, grinning when her face came into view in the darkened room. "There's one way I don't mind starting over, Mrs. Hudsonberry."

"I've completely earned the right to just be Mrs. Hudson at this point," she protested, laughing into his mouth when he cut her off with a kiss. For that moment, for his life, there was basically nothing more he wanted. Even if he'd taken his sweet time realizing what he had, it seemed pretty clear. _They_ had it all.


End file.
